Renegade Prince
by Lalaith Quetzalli
Summary: (One-Shot) John didn't know how he could possibly say goodbye to his best friend when someone interfered: a crown princess carrying instructions for Sherlock Holmes to be freed immediately on his Majesty's orders. But why would the King be interested in protecting the consulting detective? (Begins at the tarmac) HLV Fix-it - Slash - Minimum xover with 'The Royals'


Very minimum crossover with 'The Royals'

This is closer to what I first imagined when I was planning "Royal Intervention". Only then I decided I so did not want to mess with the royal family of the UK and couldn't think about inventing another (and it was quite convenient, when I found articles about Prince Harry's service in Afghanistan). It all fit quite well in the end, I liked how that turned out... Then I discovered someone else had already created an alternate royal family and I could actually play with that one!

WARNING (yes, with all caps), I haven't actually watched 'The Royals', For this fic I watched the trailer, read through the profiles of every character I mentioned and a recap of the season 1 finale... so, it might all fit perfectly, or nothing might. I'm really sorry, if it doesn't, to those of you who might actually be fans of the series and might be offended by my evident lack of knowledge on this. To everyone else, don't worry, you really don't need to know anything of the tv show (even I hardly know anything this time!).

As always, my infinite thanks to Ariane DeVere for the blessing that are her scripts.

Also, as always, I'm not British (Mexican, actually) and I don't have a beta, so any typos, mistakes, etc. are my own and I apologize for them. (I'm also no longer working on my computer, as it crashed, and this one has the chrome in Spanish, so I don't have a spellcheker for the notes anymore).

Hope you'll enjoy this anyway!

* * *

 **Renegade Prince**

" _Just once, can you two behave like grown-ups?" MH_

" _We solve crimes, I blog about it and he forgets his pants, so I wouldn't hold out much hope." JW_

Three men were standing by the side of a small government plane when a black car approached them swiftly. One man stepped out: John Watson, doctor, former field-medic and army-captain (among other things). Two of the men's brows furrowed very slightly seeing him alone, but they both chose (separately) not to comment on it.

John approached the group, pretty much ignoring the security guard at the back, and even Mycroft Holmes, to focus his full attention on the youngest of them all: Consulting Detective (and, in that moment, murderer) Sherlock Holmes.

"Since this is likely to be the last conversation I'll have with John Watson... would you mind if we took a moment?"

John made a somewhat pained sound at Sherlock's choice of words, but otherwise remained quiet as Mycroft and the security man lingering around stepped away to give the two other men some semblance of privacy.

For a handful of seconds neither man spoke, just staring at each other in silence.

"Mary...?" Sherlock blurted out suddenly.

It probably wasn't what he was planning to say, but the word had been out of his mouth before he could stop himself. Truth was the time was short (painfully so) and the detective felt a need to make sure his only/dearest friend would be alright, that he wouldn't suffer with Sherlock gone, not like what had happened when Sherlock made him watch his fall; focused on how John's own reaction would convince any onlooker, and not how the (pretend) suicide might hurt Sherlock himself. Sherlock hadn't realized how much he'd hurt John until he was back, and that was probably one mistake he'd never forgive himself for. Sherlock Holmes needed to know that after everything that had happened, everything he'd done... that John would be alright. Because he'd done it all for John, as always; even if, also like always, he couldn't actually tell the other man that. The detective wasn't sure the doctor would be able to take it, not after so many years trying to get a normal life, claiming he wasn't gay; and he had a wife and a child on the way in that moment... no no, maybe it was better if he was left to believe Sherlock had done it all out of friendship only, to protect John's wife... which brought the question, where was John's wife?!

"Right..." John cleared his throat a bit, as if uncomfortable. "Things are... a bit not good on that front, I'm afraid."

Sherlock wasn't expecting that. Was John still angry with Mary? The detective had been so sure his friend had bought everything they'd discussed during the months they spent back in 221B, John nursing Sherlock back to health... even the flat-out lie about the 'former' assassin shooting him to save him...

Or had it been Mary who caused the problem? Maybe John had waited too long before going back to her, maybe Sherlock should have sent him back earlier... if he'd just been able to push his selfishness back long enough to do so... but he'd known he would be losing his best-friend. No matter how things ended with Magnussen. A wife, children, a house in the suburbs... it was the perfect future John had always sought, and he'd found it with Mary... and Sherlock just didn't fit in that life. Which was why when John (probably feeling some kind of friendly obligation) chose to stay with him, to take care of him, Sherlock didn't send him away as soon as he was sure he would be able to recover fully on his own... he'd just been so afraid of the moment when John would leave, never to come back. Oh, he was sure John would have tried. Would have wanted to hang around for a while, to still go to cases sometimes, but eventually his new life would have taken over, leaving no space for the old one... no space for Sherlock. The detective had delayed that goodbye for as long as he could... perhaps too long.

"I don't know what will happen with us now, what we'll do... if anything can even be done..." John murmured quietly, before shaking his head almost harshly. "But that's not really the point right now, sorry." He cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Mycroft told me you were leaving today and... well..." He let out a breath before finally looking straight at Sherlock. "I'm actually not sure what I should be saying right now."

"I don't know either." Sherlock admitted quietly.

A part of him wondered if he should be apologizing for the state of things with Mary, but John had already said they wouldn't be talking about that... and he didn't really want to. In fact, if he weren't about to be shipped off to his death he probably would be quite interested in other things regarding his dear friend... but it was useless thinking about such things.

"So what about you, then?" The doctor asked after what seemed like forever. "Where are you actually going now?"

"Oh, some undercover work in Eastern Europe." The detective replied, making it sound boring (better that than showing his nervousness, his very real fear).

"For how long?" John inquired quietly.

"Six months, my brother estimates." Sherlock answered easily, though he wouldn't meet John's eyes. "He's never wrong."

"And then what?" John pressed.

Sherlock met his eyes for a moment, just for a second, but it was enough for John to feel like he was almost drowning in so many clashing emotions. There were things Sherlock wasn't telling him, he knew that much, even if he hadn't the slightest idea of what exactly his friend was hiding this time. He still could guess it wasn't good, he wanted to ask, to demand explanations, the truth, but didn't know how to, and what difference would it make anyway when Sherlock was leaving already? Leaving England... leaving John... Yeah, he might not have been ready to admit it for the longest time, but in that moment John knew that he would never need anyone more than he needed Sherlock Holmes... too bad he hadn't realized it at a time when he might have been able to actually do something about it.

"Who knows?" Sherlock shrugged, managing to pull his mask back together, somehow.

For several seconds not a word was said, as the two men stood there, almost taking turns looking at each other, while the other's eyes were focused elsewhere.

"John, there's something... I should say." Sherlock was speaking again before he was fully conscious of it. "I... I've meant to say always and then never have. Since it's unlikely we'll ever meet again, I might as well say it now..."

John waited with baited bread, hoping and dreading for what his best friend/partner might say? Could he possibly express the feelings John didn't dare? And if he did, what then? What could John possibly do? How could he answer? And what could they do anyway...?

And yet, before the moment could come...

"Sherlock!" Mycroft called abruptly. "It's time."

"Just give me one minute." Sherlock called back, eyes never straying away from John, even as his mask began peeling away.

John could only stare at him, fists tight to keep himself from reaching for the taller man, from embracing him and... why the hell did Mycroft have to interrupt them?!

"I'm afraid I cannot, Sherlock." Mycroft said stoically. "You need to go now. You know that. There's nothing I can do..."

No, there was nothing Mycroft could do, or John or Sherlock himself... there was nothing anyone at all could do... or was there?

Neither Holmes brother got the chance to insist on their respective point, as they were interrupted by the unexpected arrival of a new car: a black Bentley limousine, sporting the royal flag of the UK at the front.

"Oh my dear..." John breathed out, sounding particularly flustered.

A man stepped out first, in a perfect crisp white shirt with the top buttons undone, bespoke suit, no tie, dress shoes, his dark hair a bit wild as well as some well-groomed facial hair; his eyes hidden behind dark glasses.

Not a word was spoken, even Mycroft seemed to be completely speechless. Anthea herself had stepped out of the car the Holmes brothers had arrived in and was watching the exchange in absolute silence. It was quite obvious none of them had been expecting something like that.

Then a second person stepped out of the car, with the help of the man. It was a young woman, in a sky blue blouse, a black skirt, knee-high black-leather boots and a long black-leather coat; loose curls of dark hair were falling around her shoulders and she pushed her own sunglasses over her head as soon as she got used to the sun, revealing smoky eyes.

"I can't believe this..." Sherlock thought he heard John mutter under his breath.

The woman was the one to move first, the man shadowing her every step, as could only be expected from a bodyguard.

"I believe you're the Holmes brothers." She stated with no preamble as soon as she was close enough to the other men.

"Your Highness." Mycroft bowed respectfully before approaching. "Yes, I am Mycroft Holmes, my lady. My brother is Sherlock Holmes a..."

"The Consulting Detective, correct?" She interrupted before Mycroft could continue with introductions, or whatever else he might have planned to say.

"That is correct." Sherlock answered, eyes shining almost mischievously.

It looked like he was about to say something, most likely something that would fall under John's 'bit not good' category. However, he didn't get the chance, the woman was talking again before he could say anything:

"I, Eleanor Sandra Helena Henstridge, crown princess of England, under orders from my brother, His Majesty, Liam Sean Henry Henstridge, King of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, hereby declare royal prerogative of mercy over the person of William Sherlock Scott Holmes, consulting detective." She recited in the most formal and almost dramatic tone. "Lord Holmes is to be released and all his assets released immediately, no record shall remain of the events that have brought us all here today. Effective immediately. So it has been ordered, so it shall be done."

After a heartbeat or two the crown princess pulled a single thick envelope from the inside of her jacket, holding it out for her bodyguard to take, who then took it to Mycroft.

"Lord Holmes..." The man stated formally, handing over the envelope.

"Sir." Mycroft nodded respectfully, before turning back to the woman. "Your Highness this is... unexpected... Though of course my brother and I are extremely grateful for your mercy and that of your honorable brother."

"Of course." She agreed, though there was a glint in her eye that Mycroft couldn't help but fear, it reminded him too much of Sherlock in his wild youth.

"Why?" The consulting detective asked before anyone could stop him. "I know I should only be thankful and all that... and I am, grateful. That doesn't explain why you, much less the King, would take any interest in me..."

"Sherlock!" Mycroft cried out, scandalized.

John just rolled his eyes.

"Well, some might say I owe you thanks, Lord Holmes, after your prompt action when Miss Adler threatened my image and reputation..." She drawled in an almost provocative tone.

If her bodyguard hadn't been wearing shades, everyone would have been able to see that John wasn't the only one rolling his eyes in that moment. Sherlock's own eyes sparkled, he'd been right! Of course he'd been right...

"But no." She went on with a dismissive tone. "I will admit that as thankful as my late mother might have been that we avoided yet another scandal, at least for a while, I cannot say I cared that much one way or the other. No, my interest in this matter is much more... shall we say, personal?"

It would have been impossible for anyone, even those not of genius-level, to miss the way the crown princess eyed John up and down.

"John...?" They all turned to the doctor.

Mycroft's mind was racing. What connection could John Hamish Watson possibly have with the crown princess, and most importantly, the King of the UK? He'd researched the man exhaustively when he'd first moved in with his brother, and nothing like that had come up, nothing at all. The closest John Watson had ever been to a member of the royal family was when he'd lead the very platoon where the late prince Robert served. And yet...

"What personal interest could there be?" Sherlock demanded almost forcefully.

The woman didn't say anything, just kept making eyes at John, until he snapped.

"That's enough Lenny!" He chastised, abruptly serious.

And somehow, that was enough to make her recover her seriousness in an instant. Even the bodyguard looked a bit taken aback.

"Lenny?!" The consulting detective seem to almost wheeze the word out. "John..."

"I suppose personal interest is a way to put it." The doctor shrugged, letting out a breath. "And it's nothing like what the two of you seem to be thinking!" He chastised the Holmes brothers. "No, it so happens that Lenny is... well, she's my niece."

 **xXx**

Jan Jacob Leonard Henstridge was born the third son of Amos and Siobhan Henstridge, the King and Queen of England. Her Majesty's health had been delicate beforehand, and it only got worse after the birth, she passed away before the baby turned one. Her last wish was for her oldest sons: Simon and Cyrus, to look after their younger brother.

Crown Prince Simon took those words to heart. He knew that his father was very busy all the time with the kingdom and Cyrus was mourning even if he wouldn't admit it. The elder prince was also afraid what the lack of a close parental figure might do to the infant, so he did all he could to spend time with the baby every day, and as he grew up; at times sending the nannies away and doing everything the infant needed himself. To the point that the little boy couldn't help but see him as a father (more so than the King, who hardly ever so much as looked at the boy, the reminder of the wife he lost).

Years passed, the aged King passed away without problem and Simon took the throne after the proper mourning period; with Cyrus as his right hand. When eventually Simon took a wife and had children, Jan did his best to pay back all the attentions his brother had had for him, by being there for the younger generation of royals. It created a tighter familial relationship (of which Cyrus insisted on keeping himself and his own offspring away).

At twenty-years-old, after two years of business and law studies that he despised immensely, Jan joined the Royal British Navy, as per tradition. He served a few years, though he hardly saw any action; his superior in particular didn't seem to like him, and Jan didn't know why, other than it had something to do with Cyrus and his own time in service (there were rumors, about the outrageous things the crown prince had done while in the navy, yet Jan refused to think ill of one of his brothers without proof, and there seemed to be none of that).

Jan enjoyed his time in the service, but there was a part of him that couldn't help but hate the way people would look at him, would change their attitude regarding him, as soon as they heard his name, learned he was a royal. At some point the Henstridge name had become chains he couldn't seem to be able to rid himself of.

It was all Robert's (his eldest nephew) idea. If his problem was his name, being who he was, then why not be someone else? It wasn't like he didn't have the resources to create himself a new identity and, having already stayed in service longer than any royal before him, it wasn't like anyone in the palace aside from maybe his niece and nephews missed him at all. In the end they were quite supportive, they loved him, and knew he needed more than what they could offer him, so they helped him create a new identity and then let him go.

A month or so later, there was a new med-student in St. Bart's: John Hamish Watson.

 **xXx**

A car picked them up the next day. Not only John and Sherlock, who slept in 221B (and how John ended back there is a whole other story), but also Mycroft and Anthea (who'd been warned to clear their schedules for the day). They arrived to the palace relatively quickly, and not a word was said between them; though John was quite sure Mycroft at least was dying to ask how John could possibly have a connection to the royal family and the eldest Holmes not know.

The Equerry, Harry, was there to receive them. His eyes moved past John, carefully not stopping on him before politely receiving the Holmes brothers and Anthea as the Lords and Lady Holmes (it's a very little known fact, but Anthea isn't only Mycroft's PA, she's also his wife).

"It's alright Harry." The doctor told him calmly as tensions began rising. "They already know."

"They do?" The Equerry seemed honestly relieved by that fact. "Oh, that's good. Then let me tell you it's a great pleasure to see you again, Your Highness. Especially since it's under much better circumstances than the last time."

"Harry," John chuckled slightly. "Anything ought to be considered much better circumstances than the last time."

"Indeed." The man agreed. "King Liam and Princess Eleanor are in the southern drawing room. If you will follow me."

They all agreed and got on their way. It took exactly twenty-three seconds before Sherlock could hold back no more and blurted out what was probably in everyone's minds:

"You know him." The consulting detective said. "You know him, and yet the last time we were here you didn't say a thing about it."

"I'd been previously asked not to, and I complied." Harry answered, as if it were the most simple thing in the world.

And for him it really was that simple. Harry wasn't a complex man. He'd worked for the Royal family for many years, and owed them his absolute loyalty. He'd been especially close to the late Prince Robert, serving as one of his attendants and close confidante before eventually being granted the post of Equerry, shortly before Robert's tragic death. It'd been his close friendship with Robert that had allowed him to know of the elder prince's plan to create himself a new life away from the palace and the royal family, though he hadn't known the name that would be used (no one knew that except Robert, at their own insistence), for John's safety. And then Harry had seen John Watson, looking so unassuming, so 'small' sitting beside Sherlock Holmes... only his long training had allowed him to keep up the mask and not give away anything (even the consulting detective hadn't managed to deduce it).

They reached the drawing room in question, where Harry knocked briefly before being bid to walk in. There were two men standing guard by the door, and John recognized them both: Jasper Frost, the princess's bodyguard and (unknown to most) lover, and Marcus O'Brien, the King's bodyguard and closest friend.

"Jan!" A female voice practically shrieked.

In that moment the Holmes were treated to the sight of a much less restrained crown princess Eleanor. Who, caring little for protocol and decorum, proceeded to run straight across the room and throw herself into John's arms (who was apparently expecting something like that, as he was ready to catch her).

"Hey Lenny..." He whispered, running his fingers through her wild hair (less carefully fixed than the day before). "How have you been?"

"Alright." She murmured back, holding him tightly. "I've missed you..."

"I've missed you too." He assured her. "I'm glad to see you're alright. Now... should I be having another conversation with a certain young man?"

Eleanor didn't answer, which was telling in and of itself, and that, added to the way she blushed just slightly and the way her fingers seemed to unconsciously stray to a thin (almost invisible) chain around her neck, told John that they would be talking about that later on.

The former army captain seemed to have completely forgotten about those who'd entered the room with him, as he patted Marcus's arm in silent greeting before walking on to the main part of the room, going to stand just a few feet away from the King.

"You may be the bloody King, Liam Henstridge, but you're still my nephew." The man stated in a strong voice.

The contrast was great. The King was almost ten centimeters taller than John, and his clothes only made him look bigger still; however, in that moment there was something about John that made it seem like maybe he belonged there too.

Liam didn't seem to need more to be said, he simply allowed his body to fold, just slightly, as he went to embrace John tightly, the blonde returning the embrace just as strongly.

"Uncle Jan..." He whispered almost roughly.

"You've done a good job Liam." John assured him quietly. "A really, really good job. Simon would be so proud of you."

It took all his will for the King not to sob like a child at that, he'd been waiting for someone to say that for so long... and to hear it from a man he respected as much as he did his uncle... it allowed something to settle inside him, like it hadn't before, not ever.

It took nearly a full minute, but eventually the moment ended and they all began moving again.

"Very well, as for introductions." John declared, knowing he was the best to handle those. "This is Sherlock Holmes, my best friend as I'm sure you already know. His elder brother Mycroft, and Mycroft's wife: Anthea."

"Anna, please." She revealed her real name almost sheepishly. "Your majesties."

"Of course." John nodded and went on to the other side. "My niece Eleanor, my nephew Liam, and their bodyguards and best friends: Jasper Frost and Marcus O'Brien."

For a moment the two royal bodyguards seemed unsure about being included in the proceedings, to which Liam put them at ease.

"Consider this a family meeting." He declared. "Ophelia will be here soon."

As if on cue the door opened once again and a young woman with deep blue eyes, honey-brown hair in loose waves to the middle of her back entered. Her smiled brightened greatly upon seeing John sitting right there.

"Oh Jan!" She cried out in delight as she rushed to kiss his cheek and embrace him.

"Ophelia, darling." He greeted her back with the same happiness. "Guys, these is Ophelia Pryce-Henstridge, Liam's wife, and of course the Queen."

"Your Majesty." Mycroft and Anna bowed respectfully at her.

"Jan please." She shook her head at him. "You know I'll always be just Ophelia to you. Were it not for your timely intervention none of us might have ever gotten to where we are now. I might never have had all I do now. And, forget the crown, I would never be able to live without Liam."

"I know exactly what you mean." He assured her, tightening his hold on her hands briefly.

"Let me guess, these are the Holmes." She said, looking at the others.

Once again, Mycroft bowed his head respectfully in acquiescence.

"Please, don't stand on ceremony for me, I cannot stand it." She said honestly. "I hate all that. I'm just a simple girl..."

There were several snorts around the room. And really, while Ophelia might have been born and raised a 'commoner', she could never be considered a 'simple girl' and not only because she was Queen Consort and best friend to the Crown Princess. She'd done so much, for Liam, for the Henstridge family, even for the country as a whole. The late Queen Helena might have stated more than once that Ophelia just wasn't the right match for a prince, and especially not for a future King, but truth was she was much more deserving of the throne than Helena herself had ever proven herself to be.

Eventually pleasantries ended and talks actually began.

"There's one thing I still don't understand." Mycroft admitted after what probably felt like forever to him. "How can John possibly be a royal and the rest of us not know?"

There were chuckles from the royals before Liam answered.

"That is owed to the genius that was my older brother, Robert." He stated with a fond smile.

"May he rest in peace." Several others chorused respectfully.

"I was twelve years old when Robert was born." John decided to explain things. "You need to understand a few things. You see, I was born the third son of a ruling King, Mother passed away before my first birthday, and Father was always busy seeing to the affairs of the kingdom... I also think it was too painful for him to see me. I've been told more than once that I got my looks mainly from her."

It was true enough, Queen Siobhan had been a strawberry blonde, while her husband had been a brunette. Even though John's hair was darker in his youth, before all his years in the desert bleached it almost permanently, it was always closer to blonde than brown. And he had her eyes, down to the partial heterochromia, which no one else in the family appeared to have inherited.

"Simon took it upon himself to be as close to me as he could as I grew up." John went on. "I know it wasn't easy, he had a considerable amount of duties, being the crown prince, but still, he did his best, and I always knew he loved me. Cannot say the same for my other brother, Cyrus... I think he never forgave me for mother's death."

"But it wasn't your fault John..." Sherlock murmured, quietly.

"I know that, and even back then Simon would remind me every so often, but it wasn't easy." The doctor admitted. "You see, Mother's body was considerably weakened after Cyrus's birth, it wasn't an easy pregnancy or birth, from what I know. She didn't get pregnant again for a good number of years. But, in the end, she wanted another child. I think she probably wanted a daughter... though even that failed. Still, I know she loved me, she gave me two of my names. Father never cared for it, Simon gave me the third."

"What is your name?" Anna inquired right then, curious. "You haven't told us."

"Jan Jacob Leonard Henstridge, Duke of Cornwall." John added the last part almost as an after-thought, it's not like he'd ever done anything in that position.

"Duke of York." Liam corrected calmly.

"Excuse me?" The blonde turned to his nephew in confusion.

"After uncle Cyrus died the dukedom returned to the crown." Ophelia explained. "It was Liam's belief that it shouldn't remain empty, so you're technically Duke of York."

John blinked, yet chose to say nothing about it, it's not like it'd have made a difference in the grand scheme of things, and there was a story to get back to.

"Like I was saying before, I was twelve years old when Robbie was born." The doctor declared. "And two years later, these two miscreants." He signaled to the twins. "After everything Simon did for me during my childhood, I endeavored to repay his kindness by being there for his own children whenever his duty to crown and country wouldn't allow him to. Though he still tried."

"Of course he did." Eleanor declared. "He loved us, no matter what. Still, you were more family to us than Cyrus or mother ever were."

"At twenty I joined the royal navy, as was tradition." The prince went on. "But by then I'd already begun to find my name as a restriction more than a privilege. I wanted a normal life..."

Sherlock snorted, like he hadn't heard that one before.

"It was actually Robbie's idea." John stated. "He knew this boy, the son from one of the palace-guards, who was always talking about the things his sister could do with a computer... she was a hacker and, well... I'm sure you can all imagine what she did."

There was no need to go into details, just like there was no need to explain that the girl in question was called Clara Harris, who'd gone on to marry Harriet Watson...

"What about the Watsons?" Mycroft wanted to know.

"Sharon Watson was a wonderful woman, a widow, who'd worked in the palace when I was a bit younger, she had a single daughter: Harriet, and she'd had a son, though he died in infancy." John elaborated. "The hacker made things fit so I became her son, she agreed. Harry... not so much. I didn't know until much later, but apparently her father had been a violent man and an alcoholic, he hurt both his wife and daughter, and he was at least indirectly responsible for the death of the Watson infant... Harry believed that I was trying to take the place of her dead brother, and not only that, but I was breaking the close knit family she'd formed with her mother after her father died of alcohol poisoning. So, I can safely say things didn't go too well on that end... Still, she never told anyone the truth about me, for which I'm grateful."

It was the truth, even at her most drunk, Harry had never betrayed that confidence. It was one of the reasons that John refused to give up on her, that and that Sharon had asked it of him, on her deathbed... In the end things hadn't gone so bad. Harry had been three years sober and she was patching up things with Clara too (John honestly thought the other woman ought to be a saint, giving Harry a chance after everything that had happened to cause their divorce in the first place), he was happy for them.

"With my new identity I went and enrolled in med-school." John went on. "It was good for a while, but eventually I couldn't help but think I could be doing more, so I joined the army, first as a medic, and then on the front-lines. It went well... until the bullet on my shoulder... then again, considering everything that happened afterwards I cannot say I regret it."

Regardless of how much he might have suffered when being initially shot and then discharged truth was that, if those things had never happened, he'd have never met Sherlock, and the idea of never having his best friend, his partner his... such a life was simply too dark to contemplate.

"I won't go into what happened then, as I'm sure we're all well informed." John stated, eyeing his niece. "Don't think I did not recognize your speech-patterns the first time you commented on my blog, Lenny."

The princess in question just shrugged, it's not like she intended to keep it a secret.

"Did you ever come back?" Anna asked John quietly.

"Three times." John answered. "Not counting that case about the Woman..."

His statement was interrupted by Eleanor's unladylike snort, Liam's roll of eyes and Ophelia's rather evident sigh at what was obviously a well-known situation among all of them. The three of them had never been as concerned about such things being made public as the late Queen Helena (who was the one who insisted on someone being called to deal with the situation... though it was Liam's idea for it to be Sherlock Holmes). It had helped when, during the conflict of power that had taken over two years prior, Eleanor's 'dalliances' were made public. The fact that no one from the younger generation gave it much importance had eventually made the public stop caring about it as well (Eleanor was sure it'd only made her more popular, what will all the American celebrities having sex videos and the like...).

"The first time was for Robbie's funeral." The doctor enlisted, before clarifying. "You thought I was at a medical conference in Scotland. Then... shortly before Simon died..."

That hadn't been an easy one, John had still been completely lost in his grief over Sherlock's fall (jump) off the roof of St. Barts. He thought nothing could possibly pull him out... (it was actually his state that pushed Harry into getting sober, and finally staying that way) and then one day Clara was there. Apparently she'd gone to work in the palace after the divorce, she was close enough to the royal family to learn when the King was injured, and just how bad he was, and she had remembered how important he was to John. So she went looking for him. With Eleanor's help John managed to secretly get in to see him briefly, the day before he passed away. He stayed around for the funeral, but did not attend officially; he hadn't wanted to deal with the kind of attention that would bring, and Liam himself had asked him not to, for his own safety (though it wouldn't be until later that John would realize what that meant); in the end he'd attended under a disguise, as one of the secret service.

"The third time..." John made a pause, considering his words, as that one was much more complicated than the others.

"It was my fault." Ophelia interjected. "I went looking for him."

"When the family war happened." Mycroft murmured in understanding.

"I hope you realize that is highly classified information." Liam stated, suddenly cold. "Even with the job you do, Lord Holmes, there are things you shouldn't know..." He turned to Eleanor. "You think we missed anyone?"

He was talking about spies, there had been enough people both in the secret service and the staff who'd served Helena and even Cyrus above anyone else; including them. The twins, with help from those they truly trusted, had done their best to flush out anyone who wouldn't be fully loyal to them, but at times they weren't sure they'd managed.

"All I know are conjectures." Mycroft assured them. "Nothing for sure. You must realize, Your Majesty, the way some things look. King Cyrus was in power for less than a year... it was enough of a surprise when he ascended to the throne instead of yourself, after the loss of Prince Robert, and then what came out on the news about your parentage, some thought the Henstridge Family wouldn't be able to take another blow... then, in a single week, the two remaining eldest royals had passed away, along with the Head of Royal Security..."

His speech was interrupted when they all heard clearly when the Queen whimpered quietly.

"My apologies, my Queen." Mycroft bowed his head penitently at her.

"It's alright." She assured him. "My father died doing his duty. He saved Liam's life, even though it meant his own. My comfort is that he knew and approved of our marriage..."

And not only that, the man had actually given her away for Ophelia's first wedding; a completely private affair that only their most trusted attended. There had been a second, more formal and public one after Liam finally took the throne and she was announced as his to-be-Queen. By that point she'd also already done enough that no one cared she wasn't royalty by birth, the people loved her fully.

"So you said it was because of you John visited the third time?" Anna prompted, softly.

"I told her that if there was ever an emergency, she was to look for uncle Jan, he would help her, would help us all." Liam commented.

"You had way too much faith in me." John shook his head.

"I don't think it was misplaced." Sherlock commented quietly.

The doctor didn't quite know what to say to that.

"After the scandal of our mother's infidelity, I knew it wasn't going to be easy to make things right." Liam admitted. "So I got Ophelia away, so she would be safe." The reminder of that got him a swat in the arm. "Which, of course, she didn't like. Eleanor and I focused on finding the man responsible for Robert's death. It was obvious soon enough that even if he'd been the one to cause it, he wasn't the real brain behind it all, so we continued investigating. It soon became a mess. Our supposed father was murdered, and Cyrus pretty much kicked us to the curve. He made it seem like he was protecting us, of course, sending us to where we wouldn't be harassed for our mother's mistakes... but that was all a lie. Eventually we learned the truth..."

"It'd all been part of a very elaborate plan to get the throne." Eleanor stated seriously. "He was responsible for everything, Robert's death, our father's, the reporters finding out about mother's indiscretions... I think the only reason he didn't try to get uncle Jan killed was because he didn't know how to find him!"

"He didn't know John's new name?" Sherlock guessed.

"None of us did." Liam confirmed. "Only Robert, and the girl who helped him make the new identity of course. Though eventually Eleanor and I found out..." He shook his head. "When Ophelia came back, and refused to stay away, I told her about uncle Jan, and how to find him if anything ever happened, and it did."

"Cyrus tried to use me, turn me into leverage against Liam." Ophelia explained. "However, it turned out that there were people in his own 'side' that respected my father more than him, they helped me get out. I knew it would be too risky to return to the palace, so I went looking for John instead. It took a while, but eventually I managed to convince him to help me..."

That was a massive understatement. After Simon's passing John had fallen into a somewhat deeper depression. According to Harry he'd turned into a zombie; he moved, ate, showered, even worked, but he has no interest in anything, wasn't really alive. And then the slip of a girl had appeared at his door, demanding for him to help Liam and Eleanor.

"What happened then?" Anna inquired. "If you don't mind telling. We know of the people that died, and the official version of things, but its obvious things were much more complicated than it was made known to the public."

"Not quite." Eleanor shrugged. "As we found out, the doctor who made our supposed parentage public never actually did any paternity tests, he just told the media what Cyrus wanted him to. Uncle Jan on the other hand..."

"You had paternity tests for them?" Sherlock couldn't quite believe that.

"Nothing against them." John assured. "I was just aware of Helena's proclivities... I think Simon knew too, but he believed too much in marriage, and too little in divorce. He'd always believed that when one married someone it was supposed to be forever, no matter what..."

And they'd all seen how it'd gone.

"I'm not sure why I never threw away the tests, but I still had them." John stated with a shrug. "And there were a few reporters who owed me, after the media frenzy of... well, you know."

Yes, the media frenzy that had followed Sherlock's suicide. Reporters hadn't allowed John a moment of peace for the longest time, making all sorts of conjectures, at times treating him as a victim, others as an accomplice of the 'secret criminal mastermind', at others believing him a fool... until those who believed in Sherlock had worked together to prove his innocence... Most of the reporters had gone running, like dogs with their tails between their legs. But a few had actually shown remorse, expressing an interest in hearing John's side of the story (though that one might have been just fueled by the interest for an exclusive). Still, it had proven convenient when they needed to make those paternity test results public.

"After that it was relatively easy to get the people on our side." Liam stated. "Ophelia was there for that one too. And once we felt secure on that, we went to confront Cyrus... things didn't exactly go well..."

Eleanor snorted.

"That's an understatement." Ophelia offered.

Yes, quite the understatement, considering that the argument had gone to blows, had gotten bad enough that when Helena had tried to interfere, Cyrus ended pushing her (accidentally, probably) with enough force that she went down the stairs. Her neck broke. Cyrus had gone half-crazy then, outright attacking Liam. It'd been then that Ted had interfered, intent on protecting his future/new son-in-law; it'd cost him his life. The public version also stated that it'd been Ted that had shot the 'King' in his last moments... truth was it'd been Ophelia who'd fired her father's gun. Yet it was Eleanor's idea to change that version of events, going as far as wiping the gun and then placing it beside the fallen Head of Security, so everyone would believe what they would tell... of course none of the Holmes needed to know any of that.

A couple of maids entered the room at one point, carrying trays with tea and biscuits; the conversation got much lighter after that, and the Holmes got to hear the royal family talk about fond memories of years past, of family, friendship, mischief and adventure.

 **xXx**

John and Sherlock returned to 221B after dinner (Liam and Eleanor had insisted they stay that long). No one had so much as mentioned the possibility of John going back to his old, royal life, it just hadn't been an option, something John was interested in at all. He knew that, for some, he'd already become more legend than reality, a rebel prince who chose to give up his position and live as a commoner. He also knew his other brother, Cyrus, had used quite a few less-than-kind adjectives to describe John during his reign, to make him seem as disloyal to the crown (he didn't want to risk Jan trying to fight him for it... had never understood that his younger brother simply did not care for the throne, never had).

There had been a moment of serious conversation near the end of the dinner, when Liam had commented how his father had once intended to propose the abolition of the monarchy; shortly after Robbie's passing, when no one was sure if Liam would be able to step up. Liam had every intention of pushing it forth eventually. For the time being he was working on reforms that would give the royal house a bit less privileges, and also less responsibilities, while turning those over to Parliament. He hoped the day would come when the abolition of monarchy would seem like simply the natural next step, they wouldn't be needed anymore. Mycroft promised to back him up on any proposal to that end, and to help him find others who might do the same.

Sherlock waited until John had taken off his coat, scarf, hat and was filling the kettle with water for tea (never mind that they'd all had some before leaving the palace), before speaking:

"You have a nice family." The consulting detective commented, as offhandedly as he could.

"Ta." John smiled at him as he got out other supplies. "If I'm honest with you I always got along better with Robbie than the twins, but that might be because I was an older brother to Robbie, I was the one closest to him in age that he could trust... Liam and Eleanor didn't need me that much, they had Robert, until he wasn't there anymore. After the funeral... I liked the life I had here in Baker Street, with you, too much to give it up and go back; so in the end I convinced myself that they didn't need me... I wonder sometimes, had I been there, would I have been able to save Simon? Would Liam have had an easier time if he'd had someone he could trust guide him as he became crown prince?"

Sherlock didn't say a word. He thought that such questions were idiotic, 'what ifs' had never done anything productive for anyone... and yet, hadn't he too wondered what things would have been like if he'd never jumped off Bart's rooftop? Or if he'd found a way to tell John the truth? Perhaps if he'd even taken John along... At least on the last one he knew not to wonder anymore; much as a part of him would have loved to have John by his side as he hunted down all the pieces of Moriarty's web... John's family had needed him. He wouldn't have been able to help them if he'd left London with Sherlock that day.

All the thought of what-ifs pushed Sherlock into another question. He'd forgotten it the day before, preoccupied as he'd been by the revelation of John's royal status.

"John," He murmured quietly. "Where's Mary?"

"At her place." The Doctor answered with a too-tense shrug. "Or maybe David's, I'm not actually sure, to be honest."

"John..." Sherlock couldn't understand.

"When you asked after Mary on the tarmac I told you that things were a bit not good, and I wasn't sure if anything could be done... I wasn't being quite honest." The 'prince' admitted quietly. "It's nothing against you, of course. I wasn't just wasn't ready to accept the truth back then."

"I don't understand..." Sherlock admitted quietly, and it cost him, to say those words.

"I'm filing for an annulment tomorrow." John elaborated. "Turns out the baby she's carrying is not mine, it's David's..."

Sherlock's eyes widened, somehow he hadn't been able to deduce that. Granted, he'd missed a number of things where it concerned the soon-to-be-former-Mrs.-Watson, but he'd never honestly never considered a possible infidelity... who could ever be unfaithful to John Watson? If Sherlock had him, well...

"You suspected something?" He asked, in an attempt to push his own wild thoughts aside.

"I... I don't think so, or maybe it's that I didn't want to." John let out a breath. "Truth is so much of my focus was on you the possibility never entered my mind."

"Then how...?" The consulting detective knew he was missing something.

"Paternity test." John deadpanned.

One which he hadn't ordered... no, and yet it had been in the order for all the other tests that were performed that day... In the end, John only knew one hacker, and Harry had never liked Mary, so it fit, in a way. It was funny because Harry had told John he was nuts when he got involved with Sherlock Holmes, and yet regardless of how insane things got with the consulting detective she'd never hated him as much as she hated Mary from the get go...

"She was actually offended, when she found out about it." John pointed out.

She could still remember Mary's expression of disbelief and indignation. And really, she was the one who cheated on him, and she had the gall to feel offended that he found out?!

Sherlock's expression told John exactly what his friend thought about that.

"She, did she say anything about it, give a time, a reason?" Sherlock dared to ask, trying to work out if he could have deduced it, had he just been more attentive, while at the same time wondering how close he was to 'not good' territory.

"On the stag night." John answered. "And apparently because she thought I was doing the same."

"What?!" Sherlock couldn't contain his honest bafflement at that. "You'd never..."

"No, I wouldn't." John agreed, silently deciding not to tell his best friend just with whom Mary thought he'd be cheating exactly...

Truth was, he'd thought about it, more than once even. Not in the sense of cheating, or even as sex exactly, but the idea of being with Sherlock... it was a dream. Mary had known that John had cared deeply about the consulting detective when she met him, she probably even suspected that he'd loved the other man (at a time when John refused to analyze his feelings enough to give them a name). But the idea that the woman he'd chosen to be his wife had believed him capable of something like that. He'd chosen her! Even with Sherlock back from the dead, he'd been with her, and he wasn't the kind of man to go back on his commitments and yet, that she thought him capable of such a thing... She didn't trust him, didn't love him... didn't even know him.

"I thought... maybe... I could move back in..." John hesitated a bit as he said that. "If you don't mind having a roommate again, that is."

"I don't mind." Sherlock blurted out, not quite believing what he was hearing.

Then, like some kind of curse, Sherlock couldn't help but remember what John had said earlier that day about wanting a normal life. He remembered the new waitress at Speedy's and the way she'd been eyeing John when the two of them arrived; she was exactly the doctor's type...

"I suppose this'll be just a temporary arrangement in any case." The consulting detective couldn't help but say, completely stoic. "Until you find a wife who loves you and won't cheat on you."

"What...?" John hadn't been expecting that one. "Sherlock if you don't want me here for whatever the reason then just tell me and..."

"It's what you want John!" Sherlock interrupted him, a bit more forcefully than necessary, or even planned. "A wife, one, maybe two children, a house in the suburbs... a normal life!"

"Oh Sherlock..." The doctor couldn't help the fond smile that lit the corner of his lips. "You are such a genius most of the times... and then some times you can be such an idiot..."

"What...?" Sherlock honestly didn't know what else to say.

"This is my normal, this, you..." John admitted, voice going rough with sentiment. "I mean... what is normal really? The whole: wife, 2.5 kids, and a white-picket fence... I tried that, and failed spectacularly! And lets be honest here Sherlock, it wasn't even Mary's infidelity, no, that was just a convenient way out. Truth is, I was bored before we'd even been married a month! All throughout our honeymoon all I could think about was you, what you might think or say about certain things; all the places I'd have liked to show you, even to discover with you... life is not normal, not right, without you..."

Sherlock didn't need to hear anything more, in an instant he'd jumped off the armchair and was holding John in his arms and kissing him with a passion the 'rebel prince' wouldn't have believed him capable of just a few years before. Except, John had known for a long time that Sherlock wasn't a sociopath (high-functioning or not), he couldn't be; he had a heart, he felt, a lot... it was just that most of the time he didn't seem to know what to do about it. Though, in that moment, he knew exactly what to do, and that was to hold John tightly and kiss him until they were both completely breathless.

They began moving at some point, guided more by instinct than any actual decisions on either's part, in the direction of Sherlock's bedroom, leaving a trail of clothes in the way. They wouldn't remember the half-poured tea until the next morning.

And maybe their lives weren't what most would consider normal, but that was quite alright. They were normal for them, the normal they chose: the Consulting Detective and his Renegade Prince.

* * *

So, what did you think about my including Clara (somewhat) this time? It was a last minute adition. Didn't quite plan it until it was already written. Virtual cookies to anyone who realizes where I got John's 'real names' from!

This is, finally, the last crossover for this series. I hope you enjoyed them all. We have two pieces more to go before the series ends (all good things must come to an end... and I at least hope this has been good). For those who might be curious, I have some magical realism prepared for the second to last piece, and a fix-it/sequel for the actual 'His Last Vow' episode (meaning no crossovers, no changes, a continuation for the original chapter). Those will be coming in the next couple of weeks. Then we'll talk about future projects (I already have a few in mind).

See ya around!


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